Bequeath unto me a Swisher Sweet, pray!
Hath God made more magnificent a scent?
Not e’en the flowers of the most lavish bouquet
Could make a man such as I so content
O, ambrosia! Sweet Wild Irish Rose!
May your nectar reach deep to my soul
The great flux of life, with its ebbs and its flows
Shall make not in my pocket a hole
Kindly make mine a Newport cigarette
But not a full pack, one will suffice
To have my taste buds and throat on all sides beset
By the Kool tingle of menthol like ice
Oh yeah, and let me get like ten of them scratch-off Bingo tickets
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